Bonds of War
by loredana
Summary: In time of war, new bonds teach us what we never knew about ourselves and open our eyes to a new way of seeing the world. But as with all things in war, they are perilously close to breaking before they even have a chance to bloom. An AU story that will follow all 5 main characters, with Uncas/Alice as MCs, as they face new challenges and dangers in the French and Indian war
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Thank you for stopping by and reading my story. LOTM has always been one of my absolute favorite films and after watching it about a 1 week ago for what must have been the 100th time, I just felt the need for more. So I delved head first into the fanfics here and eventually became inspired to start writing this story. I haven't written fanfiction in ages but I was feeling slightly drained creatively so I'm hoping writing this story will revive me in that respect.**

 **As per the description, this will mainly be a Uncas/Alice fic ... I know every original of me :))). I couldn't help myself, I just love this couple and since they weren't really focused on in the film, it allows me as a writer much more freedom when writing their story. However, Cora/Nathaniel and Chingachgook will not be neglected in this fic, as I'd like to challenge myself and try to write from various characters' perspective.**

 **I will try to stay as faithful to the feel of the film as my limited talent allows which means that this story will include romance, adventure, warfare, historical events slightly altered for drama and even a few historical characters along the way. Needless to say, it will be a multi chapter fic. The rating is T for now, might be upgraded to an M or MA later on but I haven't made up my mind on that yet. I'm sure there will be inaccuracies, historical or otherwise, along the way, so please feel free to point them out. This is, after all, a work in progress.**

 **Here's hoping you enjoy the ride!**

* * *

Chapter 1

Alice watched in horror as Magua's knife cut deep across Uncas' chest. The blood seeped out, staining the whole front of his shirt. _No_ …she thought.

Magua climbed over the rock behind him and waited for the Mohican's next move. Calm and lethal, gripping a knife in either hand, he was taunting the younger man, daring him to come forth.

Uncas' looked up for a moment, as if in a daze, and met Alice's gaze. She thought she saw fear and defeat in his eyes. A wise man, she thought, would run away. He would retreat. _Don't leave me_ , she pleaded inwardly.

He couldn't have heard her. She had not spoken the words out loud, she was certain of that. And yet Uncas's eyes became fierce and resolute once more and he charged, jumping on the rock and pushing Magua.

The two men wrestled with each other and fell to the ground, fighting for control over each other's weapons or a decisive blow that would end the struggle, pushing and pulling each other and getting dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Alice heard Uncas' muffled grunt as Magua climbed on top of him. She turned away and pulled herself out of her captor's iron grip. _No_ … _not him as well._ There had been so much death. Trails of blood and screams everywhere. It seemed to follow her around ever since she had left Albany. She could not bare it!

As she opened her eyes again, she saw Uncas laying on the ground, his right arm limp and covered in blood. Magua towered over him but made no sign to attack. He was waiting for him to get up.

He would die … Uncas would die. In the last few weeks, Alice had seen enough death to recognize it casting its shadow. The faces of nameless soldiers shot or knifed down on George Road, the cacophony of guns firing and horrified screams of pain and anguish, her own dear father's body twitching helplessly as Magua tore out his heart …

"No!" she screamed and took a few steps back. Her sister burnt on the Hurons pyre …her father's body still laying on the road leading to the fort … and now this? Uncas protecting her … fighting for her … dying because of her. "No!" she screamed again and moved ever closer to the edge of the cliff. She half expected her captors to grab hold of her, but they did not move. They just stared at her, wide eyed and slightly shaken.

Finally, Magua turned his merciless eye from Uncas and towards her. His rage, violence and cold disdain permeated through her. Her body fell numb, her eyes void. She looked down at Uncas. He barely made a sound, his arm pressed tightly to his body and yet he was trying to get up.

"No …" The sound came out softer this time, almost pleading, as she looked up at Magua again. Her eyes welt up with tears and she took one more step back. She could feel a cool breeze hit her and a slight whooshing sound engulfing her. There would be no more steps to take.

She looked back at the great precipice below. The height was dizzying, the rocks at the bottom of the ravine foreboding and yet she felt no fear. For a moment, she thought of flying away from Magua's vengeful presence that had oppressed her without respite for days. And yet … somewhere in the background, she could hear Uncas' low grunts as he fought to get back on his feet. If he wasn't giving up, what right had she to do it? She would surely be damned for all eternity and perhaps there was still a chance, a chance to …

She returned her gaze upon the Huron chief and, this time, her eyes were fixed and calm.

Magua was clearly intrigued by this change. He came closer, scrutinizing her countenance and seemingly debating with himself whether she was decided on her course of action or not.

Her face remained motionless and calm and he swallowed hard, his expression changing to something more akin to empathy, if that was possible in a man such as him.

He finally lowered his knife and extended his hand towards her. A bloody hand … Uncas' blood … but a temporary peace offering nonetheless.

Alice looked at the bloody hand and then at Uncas, who was swaying on his feet, almost on the verge of unconsciousness.

A question lingered there in the air between the hardened warrior chief and the frightened, white girl and, to her dismay, after a moment, Magua nodded.

He turned towards his men and spoke to them hastily in Huron. The men were taken aback but moved quickly to do his bidding. Two of them grabbed hold of Uncas. He struggled and lifted his tomahawk to strike at them but he was quickly unarmed and subdued.

As she watched Uncas being dragged down the path, Alice found herself trembling and panting suddenly, as if she had awoken from some terrible nightmare. She ventured one more look at Magua and he signaled for her to start moving. She clenched her fists, digging them into the folds of her skirts, in a futile attempt to quiet her trembling, and put one step in front of the other, as she left the promontory of her deliverance behind.

XXX

Cora made her way up the steep side of the mountain as quickly as she could. The rain had fallen the night before, making the earth beneath her feet muddy and slippery. She reached for what she believed to be a drier patch, covered in leaves and her foot slipped, bringing her entire body crushing down. She slid down as if no more than a rag as she desperately tried to grab hold of a tree root. Her hands were worn raw by now and bleeding and she mercifully came to a halt as the lower part of her body came crushing into a tree trunk.

She screamed … in frustration or in pain, she knew not. All she knew was that she had to get up and keep moving. She could feel the water seeping through the fabric of her dress. Damn the dress! It was part of the problem! The ample skirts, the corset … all of the damn thing made climbing up this mountain three times more difficult than it already was.

The men had left her behind. They had been forced to make short change of the steep recline that seemed almost a Herculean feat for Cora, in their haste to reach the Huron party and Alice.

Alice … Poor, sweet Alice … How frightened she must be and she not there to comfort her.

Cora had failed her sister. She had promised she would always be there to take care of her and now, when she most needed her, she couldn't even get up this bloody mountain!

Cora doubled her efforts, lifting her skirts and almost crawling as she used her hands to pull herself upwards and her feet to push. In the distance, she could still hear the sounds coming from the Huron celebration. Men chanting, women cheering, guns firing … A celebration that had been ignited by the burning of Duncan.

She shook her head. She could not think about that now. She willed herself to stop from recalling his horrifying screams. If she allowed herself to think of it, she would be unable to do anything else.

A loud creek from somewhere to her left startled her. She looked around but she could see nothing lurking behind the tree trunks or through the thick foliage. An animal or a bird, she told herself even as her heart started racing and the hairs on her back stood up at the feeling of eminent danger.

She had almost convinced herself that it was only her imaginings, when something … or someone grabbed a hold of her. As she tried to pull away and scream, an arm encircled her waist and pulled her back. A foul smelling hand pressed up against her mouth, to muffle her cries, as she frantically tried to get away. It was no use. The man's grip on her was ironclad.

"Silencieux!" he said, through gritted teeth. "Cesser de lutter!"

French … he was French. But what was he saying?

Cora had never shown much interest in learning the language, even as her governess had attempted to drill it into her. She would always slip away, leaving Alice to do all the homework, as she much preferred to be outdoors or helping in the infirmary, if she was on campaign with her father. She cursed her lack of foresight.

From behind her, she could hear other voices. The Frenchman guided her to a clearing and pushed her in the middle of a mixed group of Hurons and French. The French were not in uniform so they were not soldiers, she guessed. They were dressed more like the men she had seen that night on the outskirts of the Camerons' lodge. They were talking animatedly, one over the other, paying her little mind.

Just as she prepared to run and start screaming, she noticed Chingachgook, sitting on the ground, leaned up against a tree, his hands bound. He had an ugly gash on his forehead and blood was slowly dripping down his cheek.

Two men emerged through the clearing dragging another between them. The prisoner was bound by both his hands and feet.

"Nathaniel!"

A Huron pulled her back as she tried to reach him. Nathaniel didn't make any movement. He was unconscious … or perhaps worse … "Let me go!" Cora said, pushing at the Indian who finally released her and started laughing.

The two men dropped Nathaniel unceremoniously on the ground, next to Chingachgook and drizzled some water over him. He jumped up almost immediately. "Difficile celui-là!", one of the men said laughing as he made his way towards the rest.

Cora ran to Nathaniel and gasped in horror, as she saw his face was almost entirely covered in blood. "What did they do to you?" she asked, as she pulled on her sleeve to try and stop the bleeding.

"It's nothing," Nathaniel said, through gritted teeth. "The bastard broke my nose, is all." He turned to his father, dropping his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry," he said in Mohican.

Chingachgook nodded in resignation.

Cora stared at the two men. They looked defeated and tired. She dreaded what was to come next. "Who are these men?" she asked, dropping her voice to almost a whisper.

"French trappers, most like. They probably saw us in the village and thought they'd turn a nice profit by handing us over to the French."

Cora held her breath. Being a hostage of the French was most likely better than being a hostage of the Huron, but how much better? "Where are they taking us?"

"Fort Carillon, maybe," Chingachgook said. "Maybe further, to Montreal."

"Montreal? But that's in the Canadas!" Cora gasped at the thought. That was so far! "What about Alice?"

The two men looked at each other desolately. Nathaniel tried to put on a brave smile but couldn't quite manage it. "Uncas will take care of her."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Hope you come back for the next installment. I will try to update once a week, however there might be some delays along the way depending on how busy I am at work or if RL complications get in the way. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two days they had been on the move … Or was it three? Uncas could clearly remember the sun setting at least once when the Hurons had held him down to stich up his wounds. He remembered the cold fever in his bones and the pain spasms that would shoot up through his entire body every time the curled needle would pierce his flesh. He watched the sun setting from the clearing where they had stopped and counted the seconds, trying to distract himself from the pain.

Time had expanded into a slow trek down slopes and through thick pine forests that never seemed to end. He thought they were heading West by the position of the sun. Or was it North? As he looked up to check on the position of the sun, he stumbled and fell. The noose around his neck tightened immediately, choking him, as the Huron pulling the leash dragged him and barked at him to get up. From behind, another man clobbered him with a stick. Uncas dug his left hand into the ground and pushed himself upwards. His people had called him the Bounding Elk, for his swiftness and agility. There was nothing agile about him now, as his limbs trembled and the dizziness caused him to sway as he slowly tried to stand up.

As the rocky beach of the great lake came into sight, he understood why the Hurons were in such a hurry. They were heading West, he concluded, slightly satisfied that he was still able to assess his surroundings and collapsed on the wet sand as soon as his captor released the noose.

He threw Uncas a flask of water and turned towards the beach where the rest of the Huron party was gathering around a grouping of 10 canoes that were being dragged ashore.

The water flask hit Uncas on his right shoulder and he winced in pain as he clumsily got a hold of it with his left hand. The sudden movement put strain on the newly stitched wounds on his chest and he had to pause for a moment, panting in pain, before being able to drink the lukewarm liquid.

As fever and exhaustion threatened to overcome him, he shook his head and forced himself to focus. Days ago, he had accepted that his father and brother were not coming. He had seen Nathaniel safely exit the Huron camp with Miss Munro, but something must have happened along the way. He sighed and silently gave a quick prayer to the Great Spirit to watch over them.

He was on his own.

In the distance, he could see new Huron men descending from the canoes to greet Magua's warriors. This didn't surprise him. The moment they had reached the beach, he knew they were deep into Huron territory. Magua had taken them to the Lake tribes.

As Magua finally emerged from the forest, Uncas watched the group closely, waiting for the Yengeese girl to appear.

He had not seen her since that day on the cliffs and when she finally came onto the beach, flanked by two warriors, he exhaled in relief. Her hands were still unbound, he observed. That was good.

Her state, on the other hand, was a different matter. She shook violently, her fists clenched tightly as if the mere act of walking required a great deal of effort. Her already pale skin had turned slightly blue and there were deep circles under her eyes. She must have been bone tired. The pace of the Huron had been relentless. Magua had marched them during the day but also during the night, stopping only briefly for food or rest. For the delicate, high-born girl, fragile and sheltered as she was, the journey must have been nothing short of torture. But it was her spirit that gave him the most reason for concern. She seemed lost, confused, looking around as if she was admiring the scenery, unaware of the situation she was in.

He surveyed the men surrounding her. Two at the rear, two in front but they had already moved far ahead of her, joining Magua. He stood near the shore, talking to the men that had begun loading the warriors' supplies onto the canoes.

So only two men to take on, aside from the one standing in front of him. His back was turned. He had a knife and a tomahawk strapped to either side of his belt. If he acted quickly, he could disarm him and charge the other two men.

He tried to move but his legs were like lead. He could barely walk, let alone run. He had fashioned himself a sling of sorts for his arm, using his belt, but he could do nothing about the dislocated shoulder, rendering his right arm completely useless.

Useless legs, only one good arm and extreme lack of movement in his upper body … _No … better to wait_ , he thought. If he made any attempt now, it might do more harm than good. If Magua had wanted the girl dead, he would have let her jump to her death when she bargained for Uncas' life. Yet he had not. He had speared him to keep her alive.

Uncas could barely remember the time of day, but he was still haunted by her face that day on the cliffs. Her big, brown eyes slashed into him more effectively than Magua's blade ever could, begging him not to leave her.

His heart beat faster when he looked at her now. _So young, so vulnerable and so far away from anything she could call home …_

When she turned her head towards him, he held her gaze, trying to reassure her. _I'm still here … I'm not leaving you._ She blinked in recognition as she staggered forward, and Uncas was a little relieved to see that she was not as lost as he initially thought.

Uncas' head was jolted by the noose around his neck, as his guardian forced him to his feet, dragging him towards one of the canoes. He stole one more glance at Alice, as she awkwardly climbed onto one of the boats, followed closely by Magua who sat himself behind her, like a hungry hunter guarding his prey.

XXX

It was already dusk when the canoes arrived on the beach outside the Huron village but the place was animated. From the hilled site, a steady stream of torches trickled down as people gathered to welcome the victorious warriors.

The commotion began as soon as the first canoes came into sight with people giving out cheerful war cries to which the younger men in the boats responded with great enthusiasm.

Uncas watched as Magua stepped onto the shore and began walking among the crowd. All the attention was on him and people stepped to the side, allowing him to walk unperturbed towards the village, all the while cheering his return. A small smile crept on the hardened warrior's face as he made his way, nodding to some, speaking to others. This was not just a Huron village. This was Magua's village.

Alice walked behind him, looking around only briefly, as she advanced deeper into a sea of people. They eyed her curiously, approaching from time to time to touch her hair or pull at her dress, to assess the fabric. Seeing her flinch or pull away, they would step back and simply stared at her as she walked by.

They were far less gentle with Uncas. The bad blood between the two tribes had run for generations and no Mohican would ever be well received in a Huron village. He consoled himself in the knowledge that his brother had gotten worse. In his case, it was mostly women and boys that came at him. Bound and wounded as he was, the men most likely considered challenging him to be beneath their dignity.

Still, when the first youth stepped out of the crowd and hit him in the gut, the pain from his open wound shoot up like a flame through his entire body and he fell to his knees. Blood dripped through his shirt and onto the ground beneath, as he crawled on all fours before regaining his footing.

The boiling cauldron of anger erupted once they entered the village. More and more people gathered, as the convoy walked down a narrow path towards the biggest longhouse in the village.

The path became so packed that the advance slowed down and Uncas had trouble breathing, as more people gathered around him, pushing and pulling at his shirt, until it was ripped to shreds. They jeered and hurled insults. Some he understood, others he did not but he clearly heard one women shouting: "Murderer!" before spitting on him. e He

He wiped his face slowly and continued to walk, even as his skin burned at the humiliation.

By the time they reached the end of the path, the unrelenting harassment had left him exhausted.

The deer hides that covered the large entrance of the longhouse were pulled apart and they were led inside. It was dark and hot, as tens of people huddled inside. He could hear whispers and low chatter coming from around him and he began coughing as he inhaled the heavy smoke laden air.

On the ground floor, a large group consisting of only males was arranged around the hearth at the center of the longhouse, some sitting cross-legged on the ground and others on low log benches. They watched them attentively but spoke not a word. From the raised platforms above, that formed the second story of the longhouse, women, teenagers and lower ranking men, Uncas assumed, eyed them curiously. From time to time, the solemn silence would be broken by a war cry or words of encouragement for the warriors, only to be admonished by the group of elders below that demanded they stilled their tongues.

Once they reached the hearth, Uncas also saw white men dressed in French military uniforms. One of them, a Colonel judging by his epaulets, looked at him for a long moment before turning to his Huron companion. He could not hear what the Frenchman said but he could make out the mumbled answer given in Huron, from basic words: "No … Huron … Mohican … dog."

Uncas was forced to his knees in front of the big platform, on which the Sachem of the Lake Hurons sat, flanked by two warriors carrying torches. He was rather young and wore a European type coat. It was similar to the French military blue coats that surrounded him, complete with epaulets and medals that conferred onto him the rank of general, a title as important to the French as it was useless and meaningless to the Huron.

He did not wear his hair in the Huron way but slicked back with oil and gathered at the back, decorated with a large, feathered head piece. He was a man set out to impress his French fathers.

Magua had also reached the hearth by now, brining Alice to his side. Uncas saw one of the French officers gasp in horror at the sight of a white woman in the settlement and he began speaking hastily to the Colonel, raising his voice at intervals.

Alice seemed to notice the man and she watched him for a moment, as if listening to what he was saying. _Does she understand French?_

Before he could get his answer, the Sachem silenced the room, standing up and greeting Magua. They began talking at length. Uncas could only make out words from what they were saying but the two men greeted each other with: "Brother". Magua spoke proudly of scalps and victory. He was recounting his success at Fort William Henry, no doubt.

The Sachem nodded in approval and, as Magua pointed to him, he turned his eyes on Uncas. Magua used the words "Mohican slave" when talking about him and the leader of the Hurons sized him up and laughed. "Half a Mohican," he replied.

Magua smiled with disdain and continued. He grabbed Alice and pushed her forward. Try as he might, Uncas could not understand what he was saying. He turned to look at her and saw that she kept her eyes downward, in a completely passive state. He had seen that behavior before. When tracking deer, a young fawn would sometimes freeze in place when given chase. The fear would be so great that it would be unable to move or react, even to save its own life.

But perhaps there was hidden strength to her passiveness, if he was to judge the expressions on the Frenchmen's faces. They were horrified at witnessing the way she was treated.

It was the young French officer that stood up, after a few minutes. The Huron, no doubt, had translated what Magua had said and he appeared enraged. He raised his voice and spoke angrily, pointing at Magua. Whatever he said, angered Magua to such an extent that he reached for his tomahawk. The Colonel and the rest of the Frenchmen jumped up and surrounded the young man, trying to silence him.

That's when Uncas saw Alice looking up. She licked her lips, as her fists clenched tighter into her skirts and she opened her mouth to speak. _She does understand_ …

Acting on instinct, Uncas raised his bound arms and elbowed the closest man to his left. Just as he stood up, the man and a few others pounced on him and threw him to the ground, beating him with sticks. He grunted in pain but was satisfied that he had gotten what he wanted. Alice turned and looked at him with a horrified expression. He shook his head furiously. _Don't speak. Now is not the right time …_

The blows continued as Uncas struggled to get back up. When one of the men hit him hard across his right arm, his vision turned to black and he screamed out in pain. The sounds of angry voices around him began drifting away and a low humming noise replaced it, until, finally, there was nothing but silence.

XXX

Even though he was five years older than him, Nathaniel's earliest memory was of Uncas. He couldn't have been more than a few months old at the time and Nathaniel could remember clearly that the excitement of having a sibling had quickly turned to disappointment by that time. All he did was eat and cry. He would even get up in the middle of the night crying, waking up everyone in the small wigwam, only to eat some more.

Nathaniel couldn't play with him or talk to him and he was even saddled with more chores because of him, now that his father was away hunting. When he asked his mother why the Great Spirit had punished him with a useless brother, she only smiled and told him that Uncas would grow up and, in time, he would understand the great gift that the creator had given him.

Stuck inside, while his mother went to the river to wash their clothes, Nathaniel knew that the crib lizard was no gift. He did his best to ignore him and went about the business of sneaking on and attacking a large, invisible bear, meaning to strike with the small tomahawk that Chingachgook had made for him before leaving. He charged the bear with a loud war cry that had the unfortunate effect of waking up the lizard who started crying instantly.

Having had enough, Nathaniel dropped his tomahawk and went straight to him. "Shut up!" he said. When the baby didn't listen, he reached inside the crib, meaning to pinch him into silence. Flailing his arms around, the baby grabbed hold of one of his fingers and held it tightly in his little fist. And most surprising of all, he stopped crying. Nathaniel stared in shock at his little brother and, as the baby looked up at him and smiled, he realized that he had their mother's eyes … pitch black and deep.

His mother had been right, after all. Uncas was not only his brother, but, in time, he became his playmate, his accomplice and his best friend. They hunted together, learned everything about life together, suffered the death of a parent together. When Nathaniel's sharp tongue or rash actions got him into trouble, he was right there, by his side, supporting him or accepting the punishment, whether he had contributed to the deed or not.

Nathaniel couldn't remember a time when Uncas wasn't there. Until now.

"You think they're dead, don't you?" Cora said.

He turned his head towards her. She sat a few feet away from him, holding her legs pressed to her chest. He couldn't make out her face through the darkness, but her voice was shaking, and she trembled.

He didn't answer her and focused his energy back on sharpening a small rock on the stony floor of the cave they were forced to spend the night in. He tried to make as little noise as possible but most of their captors were far off, at the entrance of the cave, while only two huddled up inside, dozing off. All of them were exhausted.

They had been traveling for three days. The trappers had taken them straight to Fort Carillon, picking up other hostages along the way, all of them survivors of the Fort Henry attack.

Their plan for trade had been derailed when they arrived at Carillon and were denied access. Montcalm even refused to meet with them. The French were embarrassed over the attack and the murder of Colonel Munro and even though they had been unable to prevent it or had likely instigated it, now wanted no reminders of their involvement, in hostage form or otherwise.

Their rejection at the fort had caused most of their Huron companions to return to their villages, leaving only 20 men to guard the hostages and march them onward.

After having walked all day through pouring rain, on no food and very little water, they finally stopped to make camp for the night. No fires were lit, since the trappers hadn't rationed their supplies properly, most likely expecting a nice, warm bed inside the fort that night. The cold night air, coupled with their wet clothes, caused many a person's teeth to rattle, including Cora's.

"Don't you?" Cora said, more insistent this time.

Nathaniel looked up and searched for Chingachgook, as well as he could through the darkness. He saw him, close by, with his head pressed against the wall of the cave, sleeping.

He should have told them to leave at the waterfalls. He should have gone after Cora alone, not drag his father and brother into this. If he had done that, Uncas would be halfway to Can-tuk-ee by now and not …

He sighed and tested the sharpened edge of the rock in his hands. Judging it sharp enough, or as sharp as he would ever make it, he began dragging it over the ropes tied around his wrists.

"Nathaniel …"

"I don't know."

"Would … would it be possible for the Hurons to … spare them? To take them as slaves, as you …?"

He cut her off. "They are or they ain't. If they ain't, then they're gonna wish they were. And if they are, then your sister burns in the Huron fires and my brother is food for crows."

He could hear her gasp at his words, as she buried her face into her lap, trying to muffle her cries.

He shook his head at his own harsh words and continued to drag the rock across his wrists. Finally, he could feel the ropes loosening and he turned to Cora, speaking more softly this time. "Be ready to move when I tell you."

He stood and walked slowly to one of the men that was laying on the floor, sleeping. He stole one more look towards the entrance of the cave. The men had their backs turned, supposedly surveying the surrounding area but they seemed asleep to Nathaniel.

He crunched over the man in front of him and reached for his musket. The man's grip on it had relaxed in his sleep and Nathaniel was able to quickly grab it and point it at him, before he began waking up.

As he was signaling the man to be silent, he felt the barrel of a gun at the back of his neck.

He had forgotten about the other man inside the cave. He must have moved from the far end of the cave and, in his haste to escape, he had not noticed. He was a damned fool!

The Frenchman alerted the other men and they came rushing in from outside. He breathed deeply, preparing himself for the shot but instead felt the blunt pain of the butt of the pistol hitting him at the base of the head.

He fell to the ground and two trappers held him there as another man dragged Cora in front of him.

"No!" he said, struggling to get free. One of the men holding him pushed his knee to his back, forcing him fully to the ground, as his arms were painfully twisted behind him. He pulled him by the hair to force him to look up.

The man in front of him held Cora tightly. He looked at Nathaniel and then pointed at her. "Vous courez, elle paie!" he said.

He turned to Cora and slapped her across the face, with the back of his hand. She screamed, as blood came rushing out of her nose and he gave her just enough time to bring her body back to the initial position, before punching her in the abdomen.

There was no scream this time and Nathaniel watched as Cora's face turned white. When the Frenchman released her, she fell to the ground instantly and curled up in the fetal position, wrapping her arms around herself.

Nathaniel's whole body went limb and he struggled no longer. As he blinked, he could feel tears falling from his eyes.

* * *

 **So this was a much longer chapter than the first and it was a bit more challenging to write just because both groups are now on the move.**

 **I always intended for the 1st part to be told from Uncas' point of view, instead of Alice, because he's a more active participant to the events, and Alice is more reactive, at this point in the story. Also because I figured he would understand some Huron words. Since the boys travel so much and trade, it seemed natural to me that although he can't speak the language, he would understand enough to figure out the general message of a conversation. I know that Nathaniel, from the movie, doesn't understand Huron at all but, in my head, Uncas is the more empathetic of the two, the one who analyzies those around him and the better listener, so having a knack for languages seemed a natural side effect of his personality.**

 **The second part, however, I initially thought of writing from Cora's point of view but Nathaniel really wanted to share a piece of his mind with everyone (as he is prone to do, for better or worse) so the plan had to change.**

 **In all seriousness, with the second part I really wanted to explore what the potential loss of Uncas and Alice would mean to their siblings. The movie ends shortly after their demise and we only really hear Chingachgook expressing his grief. Also, since in the film, Nathaniel succeds at everything he sets out to do, I thought it would be interesting to see him fail and explore the consequences of that.**

 **On a side note, I would like to apologize to all French speakers out there. I don't speak the language and I'm using Google translate, so all mistakes are unintentional.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story so far, and thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot to me!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She had done this to him. He had come to rescue her and this was his reward. It would have been better if she had jumped. Then they both would be at peace now.

Everything around her became a blur. Her breathing came out in ragged spurts and her body flinched every time the sticks made contact with Uncas' body. She opened her mouth to scream but her voice caught in her throat and she couldn't make a sound.

The sticks seem to grow in size with every strike and the hits intensified, crushing down on the immobile body faster and faster. Flames ignited from the men's arms as they brought the sticks crushing down. More and more people gathered around like a swarm of red wasps, stinging their helpless victim again and again. She felt herself grunt in pain but it didn't stop.

A sudden gush of wind hit her, moving the hair that had fallen over her face, and she looked up. There was a sea of stars above her. She starred dumbfounded at the full moon and it seemed to move away from her. She found herself tripping and invisible hands supported her. As she looked down, she realized she was walking.

The air carried a strong scent of fish … Smoked fish. She had eaten smoked fish that night. Mrs. Reynolds, the Patroon's wife, had insisted that it was a New World delicacy. Alice had never really cared for fish but she ate it dutifully just the same. Even though she had washed her hands after dinner, the scent must have lingered. She pressed her hands to her nose but all she could smell was dirt.

She should get back. She promised Cora she would keep her walk short this evening. Tomorrow they would leave for Fort William Henry and Cora didn't want her to be tired.

As she tried to turn back, she felt herself being pushed forward and the arm around her waist tightening. Was Cora with her? She couldn't remember …

She always worried so. Ever since their mother had died. Was that why she couldn't give Duncan an answer on his proposal of marriage?

Cora never discussed such things with her, but she had always known he was in love with her sister and one look at poor Duncan's face during afternoon tea was enough for Alice to know that she hadn't accepted him.

Alice felt a sting in the soles of her feet and, as she wiggled her toes to try to get rid of it, warm water splashed around her ankles. Yes … it was an old custom she had kept from her mother. She would always soak her feet in warm water before bedtime. But why did it sting?

She looked down to find the water colored red. She gasped as she moved her feet and saw her skin rubbed raw and bleeding through the water.

Callused fingers brushed against her skin and she looked down to see a pair of dark, able hands methodically undressing her. Her heart began racing and she looked up. Magua …

It was a woman, she realized in relief. She was older with deep wrinkles under her eyes and long hair, severally parted down the middle and tightly braided at the back.

Alice noticed other women close by, in what seemed a long but very dark room. As the woman that was undressing her pulled her gown down her shoulders, she instinctively brought her hands up to cover her chest. She was very close to a hearth and the flames of the fire left her in complete view of everyone in the room.

The woman must have noticed because she quickly got up and pulled a curtain in between them, while speaking angrily to the women on the other side.

She turned around and smiled. She carefully caressed Alice's face, before pulling the gown down her arms.

Water trickled down over her head and Alice jumped up at the sudden sensation.

"Shhh …," the woman said, patting her knee before continuing in a language that Alice couldn't understand, in a steady and even tone.

Another, younger woman kneeled next to her and began dragging a wet cloth over her skin, trying to clean her.

The older woman got up and slowly began wetting her hair while trying to untangle it. She started unbraiding the braid that has remained in her dirty, mated hair for days. Feeling her hair loosen, Alice jumped up from the low bench she had been sitting on. "No!"

She tumbled over the wooden basin, moving away from the women.

The older woman came closer to her, with her hands stretched out, making soothing noises, trying to calm her.

"No!" Alice screamed again, holding tightly to the braid with both her hands. As she struggled to breathe, the world around her began spinning out of control. She felt her knees give way and she collapsed.

XXX

 _Horses racing from all directions on the field … Painted men jumping from the cover of the trees straight onto the red coated officers, their small axes glittering in the sunlight. The yellow man holding her face, her heart drumming against her chest … The world spinning out of control, screams of men and women covered by heavy smoke._

 _Cora dragging her … Covering her ears so she could not hear, covering her eyes so she could not see._

 _In the distance, the horse fell, trapping the rider underneath. A leg twitching, in the last throws of life … Bloody hands holding bloody hearts …_

 _Echoes of muffled words hitting the rocky walls of a cave … "Say nothing to Alice."_

 _A curtain of water, glittering in the light. Walking aimlessly towards it …_

 _Strong hands pulling her. "Get back!" Blood rushing back through her body. Arms wrapped up tightly around her. Safe … Safe …_

 _His hot breath falling over her cheeks … Lips brushing against her forehead, falling downward … A twitch in her stomach as his lips pressed against hers. Wet … soft … strange. Have you seen the red man?_

 _Long fingers running through her hair, slowly braiding it … His shadow swallowed by the falling water …_

" _I won't leave you. I promise." Safe … Safe …_

She shook, even though she did not feel the cold. A soothing voice spoke to her, yet she could not make out what it was saying.

"Cora?" she whispered. The voice continued. She tried to concentrate, to pin it down but words jumbled in her mind without rhyme or reason. A great ache in her bones seemed to drag her out of a deep darkness and she realized that she was not shaking but rather she was being shaken.

Slowly, Alice opened her eyes. A woman was crouching over her. She willed her mind to focus, as she tried to remember where she was and what had happened, as images from the days past came flashing back. The woman must be a Huron … She recalled her trying to wash her hair and she instinctively brought her hand up to check if the braid was still there.

The woman smiled and nodded her head, rubbing her back lightly. Once she made sure Alice was awake, she turned around and began stirring a big pot that had been placed over the hearth.

In a daze, Alice got up from the deer hides she had been lying on and turned her head around, looking for a window, trying to determine what time of day it was. She only saw high walls made of wood. Still, she was sitting close to a burning fire. The smoke must have gone somewhere…

She looked up and saw a large, rounded opening in the ceiling of the building. The sky was dark and full of stars. She could vaguely remember arriving in the village at night. Did that mean she had been asleep a whole day?

The thought terrified her. She had traveled for three days and had slept for another one. That meant she was almost a week away from anything she could call even remotely familiar. Her entire life had slipped away from her.

Even her clothes were gone. She was now dressed in a long, loose dress, with a big ruffle around her chest and shoulder area. She touched the fabric on her legs. It was slightly coarse, the light blue color faded in places. Thankfully, it was clean. But, even though the dress covered her from head to toe, Alice couldn't help but feel exposed. For the first time in twelve years, she was not wearing her stays. She could remember Cousin Eugenia's words, as if they had been spoken yesterday: _A lady without her stays is no lady at all, but a common fool bent on her own degradation_.

As she pondered whether Cousin Eugenia would understand the circumstances that had led to her missing her stays, Alice watched as the Huron woman poured a ladle of a greenish liquid in a metal bowl. She turned around and handed it to her, bidding her to drink.

She tentatively brought the bowl to her mouth and inhaled its scent. It smelt like fresh mint and a mixture of other herbs. She sipped and the bitter taste made her mouth twist. She tried to push the bowl away but the woman insisted, cupping her hands and seemingly showing her how to drink. Her narrow, black eyes pierced through Alice and she wasn't strong enough to fight her. It had become a habit to give in to stronger wills than her own, so she quickly drank the liquid, not stopping even to breath, not sure if the potion was meant to nurture or poison her.

The woman looked at her for a moment before speaking. "Onatha," she said pointing to herself. When Alice didn't respond, she tried again. "Onatha". She pointed to Alice and waited.

Finally understanding what she wanted, Alice answered automatically: "Alicia Charlotte Eugenia Munro". This seemed only to confuse the woman.

"Alice …"

Onatha frowned. "A-li-ce …"

Alice nodded, slowly. "Ona-th-a".

Onatha smiled, satisfied and she stood up, extending her hand to Alice. After helping her up, she quickly wrapped a long, reddish shawl around her waist, pulling it tightly into a knot at the front.

She took Alice's hand and guided her through the darkness that lay beyond the hearth. It was a long building similar to the one she had been in on the first night, except that it was completely empty.

The faint light of the moon casted small pools of light through the cracks in-between the wooden panels and Alice could distinguish hides neatly arranged on the floor, pots and pans on shelves, even the occasional cot. It looked like communal dwellings, each separated by drapes made of cloth or deer hides.

At the entrance, a man was waiting for them. He only gave them a passing glance, before turning and walking away but it was enough for Alice's heart to start racing. He was young and tall, with protruding ears and a permanent frown etched on his face, black and blue feathers hanging defiantly on top of the narrow strip of hair on his head.

But it was the large tattoo on his upper arm that Alice remembered the most clearly. Big, curved triangles that seemed to move whenever he used his arm, as if they were flames. She remembered the flames moving when he had struck Uncas the night before.

Suddenly, Alice stopped and pulled her hand out of Onatha's grip.

"Uncas!" she said. "Where is he?"

Onatha looked at her with concern and more than a little confusion.

 _Of course! Stupid girl … She doesn't understand English._ She remembered Magua and the older man in the other village speaking in French when she and Cora were taken there so she spoke hastily: "Où es…"

She stopped herself just as quickly as she had begun, recalling Uncas shaking his head when she tried to speak to the French officers. For some reason, he did not want them to know she spoke French.

"The man …" she said, pointing to the Huron that was still walking ahead of them. She swung her arms up and down, trying to mimic the action of hitting something on the ground. She pounded the ground furiously with her imaginary stick until Onatha came closer and put her hand on her shoulder.

Looking at the woman's frowns of worry, Alice sighed, feeling completely defeated. "Where?" she asked in a low, pleading voice, putting an end to the embarrassing debacle.

Just as she thought the woman had not understood or, worse still, that she would have to mimic back a corpse to her, Onatha pointed to her left, turning Alice towards one of the largest buildings in the village.

As she was being pulled away, she could feel tears stinging her eyes as relief washed over her.

The momentary exaltation was soon replaced by growing concern, however, when, in the distance, she began to hear the ever increasing rhythm of drums being played. The high flames of a large fire darted reddish arrows towards the sky, as if setting it ablaze.

Her hands tingled, as cold sweat griped her. Her legs were moving of their own volition, as she walked slowly behind Onatha. As she drew closer to the open field, she could see what seemed to be the entire population of the village sitting around the big fire, in large circles. Alice realized that before long she was going to burn on the pyre, as her sister had done.

The drums beat louder and louder as men jumped and moved around the fire. Magua was heading the procession, with his small axe raised high into the air, as he made the high pitched yelling sound that Alice had come to know as a "war cry". She had never seen him like this. His face was usually a mask of indifference and barely concealed disdain, but now, as he tilted his head back, his profile seemingly framed by the flames, he looked relaxed, as if in a trance as he moved his legs and flailed his arms erratically in what could not quite be considered a dance.

Being in the midst of so many people, the reality of her situation only intensified. Panic settled in and her whole body shook. Onatha came closer to her and wrapped her arm around her waist, supporting her as they continued walking. She was talking to her, in the same measured, calm voice she had used when she woke her up, but the words registered as only low humming to Alice, as the beating of her own heart against her eardrums drowned out even the loudest sounds.

Next to the circles of people, another fire had been lit and a big pot placed over it. Three women took turns, stirring into it continuously and Alice starred at it in horror, as Onatha led her closer to it. Did they mean to boil her alive?

Alice had heard of savage rituals being performed by the red men. Things that would terrify and delight the Portman Square crowd, on a particular dull evening but never in her wildest dreams did she think she would be the recipient of one. For a moment, she fervently prayed that the potion Onatha had given her was poison.

She then settled on the now familiar sight of the cliffs, her mind roaming free over the landscape. She remembered the blue sky above and the river flowing quietly below. She could almost smell the fresh, crisp air and feel the wind wash over her face. It lifted her up and carried her away. Away from the Hurons, away from the fires and men desperately trying to kill each other. She felt peace.

Alice was jolted back to reality as she tripped over one of the men sitting in the nearest circle to the fire. He starred back at her and started yelling, obviously upset at being kneed in the back.

"I apologize …" she said, dropping her eyes as the man continued to berate her. Onatha cut him off with a curt reply, delivered in the same loud tone the man had used. He shook his head and sighed but said nothing more, letting the two women advance.

The dancing had stopped and the rhythm of the drums had slowed down to a thankfully low pulsating sound. Onatha guided Alice across the field towards the people closest to the fire. The man that she had been presented to the night before was sitting in the middle, feathers adorning his head. Their king, Alice assumed since she had seen him sitting on a makeshift throne. To his left, the group of French officers eyed her carefully but made no sign of disapproval over what was going to happen to her.

Magua was sitting to the right of the king and, as she and Onatha stopped in front of them, he scrutinized her with the same indomitable, cold stare she had come to recognize from him.

She expected the woman to push her on her knees as Magua had done to poor Cora but she did not. Dreading the intense look the red man was inflicting on her, Alice dropped her eyes out of reflex, waiting for whatever came next.

When she saw Magua signaling her to sit, as he patted the spot next to him, she was caught completely off guard. She swallowed hard, still unable to move. As she looked around, she realized everyone, including the French officers were watching her to see what she would do.

Onatha gently nudged her from behind but it was enough for Alice's limp body to move forward as swiftly as a reed in a summer breeze. She clumsily sat down on the deer hide next to Magua and her acceptance of the invitation seemed to calm the French officers who began talking to the king.

Alice's mind wondered, between the fire that had now been brought to a gentle simmer as venison was placed over it to slowly roast, to the French that talked of forts and armies, to the people that were now spreading flattened bread between them and small, metal bowls that women were filling with the content of the big pot she had seen earlier. She was unable to focus on any of it but tried desperately, as she attempted to ignore her proximity to the Huron man that had hunted her down as if she were an animal and had caused her entire life to collapse before her eyes.

His presence unnerved her. She could smell his scent, a mixture of sweat and earth, and it burned her nostrils. The exposed skin on his arms brushed against the fabric of her dress and she felt it burn through her skin. His laconic manner of speaking and the way he would drawl out certain words sent a shiver down her spine and made her hands tremble furiously.

As the women holding the pot came closer to them, Magua shoved his bowl into Alice's hands, expecting her to serve him the food. The women poured a hot mixture of runny rice and small, red fruits that Alice could not recognize. As she turned to hand it to Magua, the tremor in her hands caused the stew to spill over the rims and Alice dropped the bowl, some of the content falling over Magua's lap.

The stew must have burned the exposed skin on his thighs because he grunted in pain. He slapped Alice's hands away and pushed her, as he angrily wiped the rice from his leggings.

The sight of him in pain caused Alice a small twinge of satisfaction and she allowed herself a small hint of a smile. But, when she looked at Magua and saw the vein in his neck twitching uncontrollably as he barely concealed his anger, she realized that her small triumph meant nothing.

He rose quickly and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her after him as they left the open filed and headed back towards the village houses.

The road was deserted and the complete darkness around, made it hard to see where they were going. The soles of her feet burned, the leather of her shoes digging deeply into the raw flesh, as she struggled to keep up with him. By the time they stopped, she was panting and almost ready to collapse as he pushed her through the thick, deer hides that were covering the entrance.

The room was small. Far too small. She heard Magua coming inside after her and she dashed for the hearth. She crawled on the deer hides laid on the floor and retreated to the corner, holding her legs to her chest and pressing her back to the wall.

She tentatively watched him as he came closer to her but he did not try to approach. He crouched down in front of the fire and poked at the ambers with a stick.

"If you ever do that again, I will whip you."

He stood up and placed a bowl of rice on the dear hides, next to Alice. "Eat."

She blinked rapidly, as his threat registered in her mind. She made no attempt to take the food, even though she had not eaten in 3 days. She did not dare to move or make any sound, hoping that by some miracle the earth would swallow her whole or that she would finally wake up from what had been a horrible nightmare.

Magua moved from the fire and sat down at the wooden table that dominated the room. He took out his axe and began dragging a small rock over its edge. The sound of metal grinding against the rock sent shivers down Alice's spine and she pressed her body further into the wall.

"Magua swore to end the Grey Hair and all his seed," he said. "You are the last to fall under my knife and I spared you. Never forget that."

He continued dragging the rock over the metal, with precise quick strokes and Alice trembled imagining how sharp the weapon must have been. She had seen the terrifying Indian custom of "taking scalps" on the George Road, when the red men shaved off the top of their opponents head with their axes and she wondered if that was what Magua was intending to do to her. On the wall in front of her, the skeleton head of an animal was mounted and imagined her "scalp" hanging next to it.

Moments seemed to drag until Magua looked up at her. His features softened somewhat, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly as they had done once before on the cliffs. "She had eyes like you. Big and round … But darker, like wood after a great fire. Since the moment she was born, she was my shadow. She fell under your father's musket when she was trying to reach me."

The mention of her father made Alice's breath hitch in her throat. The image of Magua towering over him, holding his heart in his bloody hand, made her eyes water and tears fell down her cheeks without her even noticing.

He continued talking but she no longer heard him. Her mind drifted away to another time and place.

XXX

Five days had passed and she thankfully saw little of Magua. After that first night she spent curled up in the corner while he slept soundly on the bed on the opposite side of the room, Onatha had come for her and taken her away.

He spent most of his time with the French officers and Onatha never took her to the gatherings in the open fields again, even though from the cot Alice had been sleeping on, she could hear the drums well into the night.

Onatha's calm manner and gentleness had made Alice become quite attached to her. Alice's shoes had broken down and Onatha had given her the moccasins she was wearing, the soft deerskin doing wonders for her tortured feet in the process. The problem was that they seemed to be the woman's only pair of shoes and she was now walking barefoot everywhere. Alice felt terribly guilty but when she tried to give them back, Onatha refused adamantly, shaking her head and arms and looking quite angry at the suggestion.

But, despite her kindness, Alice was still tentatively suspicious of the woman. Her feelings were exacerbated by the prolonged visits of the Huron that had attacked Uncas. He would come to Onatha's house almost every day and they would talk. There was a great familiarity between the two, with the woman often smiling at him or playfully ruffling his hair. It set Alice's teeth on edge to have him so near.

But she had no choice. She was forced to spend the entire day following the woman around, as she made her rounds through the village. She was a healer of sorts and she took care of all manner of injuries, from broken bones to fevers and poison oak rashes.

It was already dusk that day as they were returning to the house, having visited a man that had been attacked by an animal during a hunt. It had left an ugly, open gash down the man's arm and Onatha had dutifully cleaned and bandaged the wound every day since.

Alice mostly watched and handed her supplies, trying to guess what the woman was asking for but on this last day, Onatha had let her bandage the wound. She was not completely inexperienced, as she had helped Cora in the infirmary before, even though she had neither the talent nor the inclination for the task. The sight of blood still made her queasy at times and the screams of pain always seemed to render her entire body immobile. Still, all things considered, Alice didn't think she had made much of a mess of it.

As she walked down the main road, behind Onatha, she looked to her left, staring intently at the big building where she knew Uncas was being held. She bit her lip and stopped for a moment, still hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

She barely noticed Onatha stopping next to her until the woman handed her the weaved basket of bandages and ointments she had used throughout the day. Alice looked at her, not quite understanding what she was meant to do with the supplies until Onatha pushed her towards the building.

She took a few tentative steps, before turning towards her to make sure the Huron woman was not playing some kind of cruel game on her, but Onatha simply signaled with her hand for her to go on.

Alice took a deep breath and started walking faster towards the building. The thought of being in the presence of someone she knew for certain did not wish her harm made her almost run inside.

She had expected a prison, with cells and bars, as she had seen at Fort William Henry but it was nothing of the sort. It was a large barn filled with corn and bags of what she assumed was rice, stacked in neat rows, in between wooden barrels. Smoked fish was hanged from the wooden beams on the ceiling and it filled the air with its pungent smell.

She walked further into the building, directing her gaze towards the darkest corners and in between the wooden barrels. She could see no sign of him or of him ever having been there. Perhaps Onatha had tricked her …

Just as she was getting ready to turn around, she heard the rattling of a chain coming from the far end of the building. She quickened her steps and finally reached him.

He was laying on the exposed ground, curled up on his side, his foot tied by a chain to the wooden beam that supported the ceiling. Half of his torso was covered in bandages, his right arm tightly banded to his body He was shivering and his skin was covered in dirt.

"Uncas?" she said.

The sound that had barely surpassed a whisper jolted him immediately and he raised his head. His dark eyes still held the same quite confidence and innate calmness that she had come to expect from him and she couldn't help but smile.

"Alice …"

He had never spoken her name before. He had called her "miss" once, on the journey to the fort, when he told her that she needed to be careful when walking up a particularly slippery trail, instructing her to use the roots of the trees for stability. The rest of their communication had been reduced to small matter-of-fact sentences, worded in the heat of the moment. They had barely spoken more than five times in their entire acquaintance and yet she would recognize his deep, clear voice anywhere and always know when it was directed at her.

Here they were, unlikely companions and survivors of a world that seemed to have gone mad. He, without the family he seemed to value above everything else and she, the last surviving member of hers. Without thought, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. _Safe._

He grunted in pain at the impact and Alice withdrew quickly. "I'm sorry …" she said, afraid that she had hurt him.

He did not seem to make note of it, instead scrutinizing her from head to toe. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" he asked.

She shook her head quickly. How could her wounds compare to his? His face was covered with soot and dirt. His long hair, usually neatly arranged and flowing, was disheveled and dirty. There were dark bags under his eyes and he had bruises from the beating he had received all over his body.

She couldn't bear to see him like this. She touched his face gently and began wiping his skin with her fingers. "What did they do to you?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it for reassurance.

"I would have come sooner. But they've put this woman in charge of me … Onatha …"

"I know," he said. "She's been taking care of my wounds. It's good that you're staying with her. She's a good woman."

"That man … that man that beat you. He comes to visit her …"

"He's her nephew." Uncas touched her face lightly and smiled. "Don't be scared of him. He won't hurt you. He's just eager to prove himself a warrior."

Alice opened her mouth to object but as she noticed stains of blood seeping through his bindings, the matter was forgotten entirely.

"I brought bandages to dress your wound."

She began unknotting the white strips of cloth and she could feel his body tense up every time her fingers brushed against his skin. The contact made her blush, realizing just how close they were to one another. Being near a half naked man hadn't bothered her when she was dressing the injured man's wound. But this felt different. Feeling his breath falling over her neck, seeing his chest rise and fall made her hands tremble ever so slightly and her whole body tingle.

"What is going to happen to us?" she asked, trying to distract herself from her task.

Uncas cleared his throat before answering, a barely noticeable shake to his usually confident voice: "They've taken me as slave. I'm working in the fields for now …"

He was unable to continue. He let out a strangled whooshing sound when she removed the final bandages, as the strips of cloth had stuck to the fresh wounds.

Alice's breath caught in her throat when faced with the extent of his injuries. There was a red, throbbing gash running diagonally across his chest and another one horizontally, just above the stomach, with smaller puncture wounds in between.

She knew he had been hurt when he fought Magua but she hadn't realized how badly. And it was all because of her. She burst out crying, covering her face in shame and shaking her head. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry ..."

He wrapped his one good arm around her and pulled her in. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest.

"You were not the cause of this, Alice. It's not your fault," he said, softly.

He broke their embrace, lifting her head to make sure she was looking at him. "We need to leave this place."

"Leave? Where are we going to go?" she said, between sobs.

"We'll head east. Back to Fort Edward. Your sister is probably there."

The mention of Cora made Alice's stomach twist in painful knots. Did he not know? She could barely bring herself to say it. "Cora is dead …The Hurons …burned her."

Uncas frowned for a moment, as if confused. "No," he said. "It was the English officer that burned. Not Miss Munro."

"What?" she said. "No … I saw them taking her towards the pyre as Magua was dragging me away. I saw …"

Uncas shook his head confidently. "The Yengeese made a trade. I saw him burn before I ran to find you."

Relief overcame Alice. Cora … Her beautiful, brave sister was alive.

But then, Uncas' words fully registered and relief was quickly followed by regret as she realized that her happiness over her sister's fate, meant indifference over poor Duncan's demise. "Duncan? … Oh, God! Poor Duncan!"

Pangs of guilt clawed at her, thinking of the man that had treated her as a sister since the time she was ten years old. She thought of him protecting her on their journey to the fort and of his attempt to distract her from the dangers with thoughts of warm baths and tea. He was such a kind man and he had died in so much pain …

"Alice."

Uncas' voice snapped her back to reality and she lifted her head.

"Are the Français still here?"

"The French?," she said. "Aaaa … yes … Magua spends most of his time with them."

"You need to keep an eye on them. Find out what they're doing here and, most important, find out when they're leaving."

"You mean spy on them?"

Uncas nodded his head and Alice's eyes grew large with fear and uncertainty. "I … I cannot do that."

"Yes, you can. The building where they took us on the first night … Do you remember it?"

Alice nodded.

"The Français will be close by. Pick a moment when you are alone and try to listen to them. No one knows you speak French so even if they catch you, they won't suspect what you were doing there."

Alice shook her head adamantly. "I'm not good at that sort of thing. Cora …"

"Cora isn't here," Uncas said, grabbing her by the shoulder. "You can do this. You are strong."

She bit her lip and looked away from him. She wasn't strong, never had been. "I can't," she said, admitting defeat. "I know I'm a burden to you. I wouldn't blame you if you left without me. You've done enough …"

"Magua claimed you as his wife," he said, cutting her off.

Alice's face turned white with fear. His wife? The thought of being linked to Magua in any way felt like a sentence worse than death.

"He thinks he's taken your spirit," he said. "Or, even worse, that you never had any. But you do. Deep down, you're like the deer that confuses the hunter by standing still when all others would run. The hunter becomes confident, he relaxes his grip and then … the deer jumps up and escapes his musket, when he least expects it."

Alice starred at him for a long time. Tired and wounded as he was, through the archness of his brow, his eyes still burned with that quite intensity and inner calmness that stabilized her nerves and galvanized her. She realized she had spent the last few days completely paralyzed. It was time to evade the musket, as Uncas had said. She could not be an invalid schoolgirl any longer.

* * *

 **Author's note: Ok ... so I would like to start by apologizing for taking so long to post this chapter. I first missed the official deadline of one week and then every other deadline I set for myself :(. In my defense, I have been diligently working on this chapter every day for the past 2 weeks but between a busier schedule at work and complications with the prose, it ended up taking more time than I initially thought.**

 **This chapter is rather slow and very long (it ended up being 14 pages in Word) so I decided not to include the secondary story of Nathaniel/Cora. Part of the reason for that was because the Alice's POV alternates between reality and her imaginings at times and I felt it would be too confusing to add the second storyline as well. Not to worry, the rest of the gang will be back in the next chapter.**

 **I hope you like this chapter even though it's slow and confusing at times and, I admit, Alice is quite frustrating during certain scenes. I found myself angry at her that she wasn't being more assertive during certain situations but what I really wanted to do with this story is watch the evolution of Alice, a sort of coming-of-age story and, right now, she's probably at her lowest point.**

 **One more thing I'd like to add. I know that some of the things Alice describes are not at all flattering regarding the Native Americans and Hurons in particular. When I write, I always write from my character's POV and Alice has preconceptions that are a mixture of her privileged British upbringing coupled with the fact that she is understandably angry and fearful of Magua, and by extension of all the other Hurons in the village. What I'm trying to say is that her views don't reflect my own on this issue. I'm just trying to stay true to the character.**

 **Ok, that's about it for now. Thank you for reading and to everyone who has taken the time to comment so far. See you soon!**


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